Chapter 4: Weekly Plans
Harry glanced about, staring into the growing darkness engulfing the mall, doing what he could to spot the Dementors he could feel approaching. The Muggles walking by were beginning to notice the cold, deadening sensation you feel when these creatures move closer to you, but from what Harry could hear they all thought the mall's air conditioning was kicking into overdrive.
Harry also heard Luna whimpering, and turned to see her step backward away from the escalators to rest against a large display case advertising the latest games in the mall's computer shops. "Where are they coming from, Harry? It feels...it's cold, Harry. It was like on the Express...Harry, when they searched the train for Sirius Black. I...why am I remembering..."
Harry moved closer, leaning his back against the display case as well, focusing his vision on the dark corners now engulfing the surrounding storefronts. He remembered the attack from last summer, when two Dementors swooped down into Little Whinging, and kept wondering why the Muggles weren't noticing a thing. Even Dudley, as dim as he was, could sense the coldness, could cry out about the loss of light as the creatures swept into the engulfing darkness in search of prey. And still he couldn't see where they could be coming from.
"Luna," he whispered. "Stay focused. Remember the training in DA. The Patronus spell, you need to stay focused on happy thoughts. Luna?"
"Yes," she whispered back. "I'm still here. But...Harry...I never made a successful Patronus. At least Hermione..."
Her whisper became urgent. "Harry. It's over there."
Harry glanced quickly at Luna, then noticed the direction she stared at. The shape and movement of the cloaked figure passing by them along the far side of the storefronts was most definitely a Dementor. What surprised Harry was its apparent disinterest in any particular person, merely shuffling along, touching long gray bony fingers upon the shoulders of the people walking in the opposite direction. Like a shark swimming against an unending tide, the Dementor made its way from person to person, each one of them shuddering in response to a shadow they couldn't see but could finally, almost horrifically feel.
The ones touched swooned as soon as the cloaked creature passed, garnering some notice by the others surrounding them, until they too were touched and swooned themselves. A growing murmuring noise could be heard by the victims, each of them grouching about sudden aches of their joints, about sudden memories of forgotten moments, about wondering why it felt like someone stepped over their graves.
"What's it doing?" Luna whispered, regaining some sense of calm. "I thought they took all of your happy memories, drained you of good thoughts. It only looks like, that it's just making people feel miserable."
"I dunno," Harry answered. He stepped slowly in the Dementor's direction, partly aware that he was still steeling himself for battle. "It might be there's too many people and only one of him. He can't focus on one person to feed off of. He's...I think he's snacking."
As Harry finished that thought, the Dementor suddenly turned, its cloak swishing an ominous swirl of dust along the floor where it had just walked. The dust swirled higher, reaching up at the people once touched by the creature, like fingers grasping at...
"Oh, no," Harry whispered, stepping back from the dust cloud. No one had mentioned this as a Dementor attack method. No one taught him what Dementors could do with dust.
A hissing noise issued from under the Dementor's hood, and suddenly every human within the dust cloud coughed and seized up, clutching their chests or shoulders. One woman had enough strength to clasp her forehead, as if a pain from a scar was hitting her at that moment, and Harry winced in sympathy.
Finally people noticed the sudden collapsing of a large group, and screams echoed across the mall's long hallways. Loved ones dashed to the fallen, only to suddenly seize up themselves as they reached the dust cloud that now pulsed with life, expanding with each hissed breath of the Dementor that sounded more and more like a satisfied shriek of joy.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry whispered to himself, raising his wand, knowing he had no choice. Muggles had to be seeing him, he was not only violating the rule of underage magic use but the greater rule of avoiding Muggle awareness of wizardry, but Muggles were dying now, he had no choice, lives were at stake.
Harry reached for a happy thought. Memories of Sirius flew in, but that last image of him, stunned, falling into a... No. Harry kept thinking, Cho, the moment they kissed, but there was a sense of guilt, too much shock, he still hadn't fully registered what had happened...
He suddenly remembered the feeling of winning the House Quidditch Cup from two years prior, and just as suddenly recognized a better memory: Ron, smiling from ear to ear, hoisting the Cup himself it what had to be the greatest moment of his life. Gryffindor students of all seven years carrying him into Hogwarts, singing a better revision of the "Weasley Is Our King" song, and realizing how Draco Malfoy must have seethed in seeing Ron win and hearing a song he meant for humiliation used instead for praise.
That's it, Harry smiled to himself, the best thing I can think of. He pointed his wand, keeping that image of Ron's celebration in his mind, and shouted "EXPECT..."
"ENOUGH!" Another voice shouted. Harry turned, suddenly distracted by the appearance of the goblin ATCM supervisor hobbling in the Dementor's direction. "Enough, foulness personified! Enough!"
The Dementor's joyous shriek was replaced by what had to be a gasping snarl of sorts. The dust cloud shrank slightly, but the humans still trapped within it shuddered and cried in pain.
"Enough!" The goblin approached without care or caution. He was facing a Dementor, Harry mused, he wasn't afraid, he didn't react like all happy memories were being consumed in darkness. "Enough! You are interfering! You are hurting business! Enough!"
The Dementor grabbed at the nearest human, lifting him up as if using him as a shield against the goblin's approach. The human finally gasped as though his lungs were finally working properly, only to violently shudder as if he was now freezing to death.
"Enough!" cried the goblin, finally reaching into the dust cloud that had yet to settle, spinning the quill in his hand quickly into the thin fog-like material. As the quill spun faster, faster than Harry's eye could gauge, the cloud changed in appearance, changing from dust to a gold mist. The mist pulled away from the collapsed crowd, as gasps for breath grew louder from the victims, and slowly rose up along the Dementor's dirt-covered cloak, becoming brighter and brighter.
"The light," Harry whispered, noticing the mist growing more golden and more solid. Not yet as bright as the sun, it nonetheless cast the shadows that had grown along the storefronts into retreat, and it rose higher along the cloak. The Dementor shrieked, tried to move, instead tripping against itself and waving wildly as it couldn't even fall down. The human in its grasp fell back to the floor, struggling for breath and warmth.
And still the bright golden mist formed a hard shell against the Dementor's cloak, wrapping like a cocoon around the shrieking, frightened creature. For once, Harry realized a Dementor could be afraid, instead of inducing fear, and watched as the mist finally wrapped itself against the dropped hood, tightening the cloak shut and silencing the Dementor with one last desperate wail.
The goblin stopped twirling his feathered pen, and stood there shaking his head as though disappointed. Muttering something to himself, the goblin supervisor pulled a bell, this one slightly larger and more oddly curved than Rancalk's bell, from around the neck and proceeded to ring it.
A quintet of goblins suddenly scampered past Harry toward the supervisor. Receiving whispered instructions, they nodded among themselves and quickly turned their attentions to the Dementor's victims, still sprawled upon the mall floor. The Muggles that had arrived to help, a handful of security guards and a pair of nearby employees of a store, still seemed unaware, focusing instead on the poor humans struggling to revive from the attack.
The goblins quickly began to walk among the pile, taking notes on small parchments next to each victim, taking record of some sort, before waving their quills over the victims. The pale, clammy skin of each victim would fade back into a normal, warmish pink color, although the vacant stare each gave Harry a small shudder. Satisfied that his underlings were taking care of the situation, the supervisor turned away toward the direction of the Information Desk.
"Wait!" Harry stated, walking up to the goblin supervisor, far too many questions bouncing around in his head. The supervisor glared back at him, which made Harry stammer a bit. "Well, first off, thanks for, you know, taking care of the Dementor, and...well, thanks."
The goblin supervisor blinked as though thanks meant nothing to him. "It was bad for business. Dead customers don't spend their money, after all."
Harry glanced at the solid gold cocoon that was now standing, stunningly unnoticed, in the middle of the mall. "Um, what did you do to it?"
"Killed it." The goblin supervisor stated it like he was counting the number of paper clips in an office drawer. "Not much you can do with foulness. Don't buy anything, and can never deal with those things."
Harry was going to ask another question, but a long woolen robe swung past his face and he turned to see a wizard bending down slightly, as though catching his breath. "The Dementor! My word! Already taken care of, I see!"
Harry recognized the wizard's wiry hair and tough-looking face from Dumbledore's office when Fudge attempted to arrest the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dawlish, from the Aurors' office, now looked peaked, sweat dripping from the sides of his face, with all the appearance of a long-distance runner trying to make the London-to-Glasgow stretch in under a minute. "Gold. Solid, I suspect. You goblins do know a few handy tricks, eh?"
The goblin supervisor grunted. "Wizards." He turned, ringing his bell again, but at a higher pitch. The goblins checking on the human survivors stopped in their tracks, and immediately ran from the scene, speeding past Harry so fast that by the time he had turned even the dust in their trails had settled back onto the mall floor.
"Wait! Where did they go?" Harry glanced back at Dawlish, only to see he had walked over to the golden cocoon to see about removing it from the mall. Another pair of wizards Apparated next to him, both of them slightly older in appearance and more bookish, more than likely from the Ministry's other departments. The pair quickly moved among the Muggles, waving their wands about muttering words like "Obliviate" which told Harry they were clearing the minds of all possible eyewitnesses to the incident.
Harry turned back to Luna, who had stored her wand back into a large burlap carry-all that she immediately folded and shoved into the outer flannel blue shirt she wore. "Where did those goblins go? Why didn't they follow the head goblin banker back to the Information Desk?"
"Well, that's not where they came from," whispered Luna. "Those goblins were from the food court."
"What are goblins doing in the food court?"
"Running it. Goblins have a controlling interest in every food court on the planet, Harry."
Hands tapped both teenagers on their shoulders, and they turned to face Dawlish, who looked calmed and relaxed. Harry spied past him to see that the golden cocoon had been removed and the affected humans walking away from the scene. Dawlish coughed quickly, a deeper one than former High Inquisitor Umbridge used, to regain Harry's attention before speaking. "Alright, did any of you use magic here today?"
Both Luna and Harry shook their heads. "We didn't, but we were about to and..."
"Hmm, well, you being who you are," the Auror noted, glancing up at Harry's forehead, "I wouldn't have been surprised if you succeeded. Still, don't be surprised if you get any messages, all things considered what just happened."
"But we didn't use any magic!" Luna answered, doing her best to keep her voice from being overheard by the Muggles passing by.
"Of course you didn't! I'm just saying the Ministry's bound to pass word along to every one of you and your schoolmates. Today's been, well, I won't be surprised if I get another call soon about another location..."
"Another?" Harry's eyes widened. "They've been...there's been more attacks just now?"
Dawlish nodded. "All over the place. That's the next thing I want to tell you. Both of you. Go home. Right now, as best you can. It's not safe today, and we can't be sure if anything else is going to happen."
Just at that moment, Harry noticed the mall becoming brighter, as though the sun had returned with the lifting of a spell. Even with the Dementor's capture and destruction within the golden cocoon just minutes earlier, the place had remained dark, fulfilling some sort of time limit. "But wait, we can't leave yet, Luna's father..."
Dawlish glanced down at Luna. "Your father? He's...?"
"Lovegood. Keeley Lovegood." Luna glanced about. "He's...well, we were looking for him before the attack..."
Dawlish's face became sterner. "Look, do what you can to find him. When you're done, get him to take you both home. Now. Get going."
It had been a rather quick walk through all three levels of the Friary, even though it had to have been an hour covering every inch of the place. During it all, Harry had spotted dozens of Muggles commenting oddly on things, of emergency medical teams showing up to deal with a group of tourists suffering dizzy spells at one end of the mall, of unusual noises and smells throughout the place, of a possible gas leak that no one seemed to think was at all dangerous at the moment.
There was no sign of Luna's father, much less anything blue that could have passed for a Winodyr. Finally, Harry collapsed on a mall bench near the main entrance, taking a moment to rest his legs and count the number of grumbling noises his stomach was making.
"Well," Luna sighed as she sat down next to him, tinkering with her butterbeer cap necklace that Harry noticed had gained a few new additions since the end of school year. "I'm not concerned."
"Why not?" Harry asked, perplexed. "There'd been...well, an attack. A pretty serious one. Aren't you worried?"
"Dad's a full-fledged, well, you know," she smiled slightly. It was kind of hard to discuss wizarding out in the open. "He can protect himself."
"Yeah, but still..."
"He's probably gone to check other stores," Luna continued, glancing outward. "Maybe he wasn't even in the mall when it happened, so he's safe."
Harry nodded, and noted that her dad might not have known about it, which explained why Luna's father wasn't conspicuously running about terrified that something might have happened to his daughter. "So what do we do?"
Luna continued to look out the mall's main entrance. "Do you know any good eateries here? I think you're hungry."
Harry smiled. "You could hear my stomach growling?"
"No. It's just I remembered you were complaining about that just before the attack." Luna finally glanced at him for a second with a slight smile, before resuming her outward stare. "There's a fish and chips place near the Floo Network stop down the street. Sound good?"
Harry nodded at that. It sounded like there was more walking involved, but he was sure his stomach could survive another hour or two.
They headed out of the Friary and onto the streets of Guildford. The cloud cover had remained since morning, but it was certainly brighter than it had been in hours, with very little threat of storm. It felt more like a late spring than early summer, and the walk outside didn't seem so bad to Harry.
The pair did come across an unusual scene outside of Waterstones, a book store. Harry had never seen so many children, much of them younger than he was, standing in queue quietly and calmly. A few had their noses pressed against the windows, glancing back and forth at the titles on display, but apparently not finding what they were looking for.
"What is happening here?" Luna asked a small girl, barely the same size as Ginny back when Harry first met the Weasleys (was it already that long ago? Harry mused.).
"We're waiting for a book to come out," the girl answered, not turning her attention away from the front door.
"Oh. What's the title?"
"Well, we don't know it, actually." The girl shrugged. "We just know there's a book out there for us."
"A whole series of them," a thin boy added, pressing his nose against the store window.
The doorway swung open as a taller girl, almost the same age as Harry and Luna, puffed her way outside, a indignant look on her face. "Bloody manager. Get all mad with me, I'm actually wanting to a be a bloody customer..."
"Well?" all of the children shouted at once.
The tall girl sighed. "Same answer as last week. It's not in, yet."
The group of children groaned, one or two of them openly wailing their heads off. "Didn't you tell the manager we were waiting?" the thin boy asked.
"Yeah, I did. Even suggested he throw a midnight store opening party when the book comes in, so that all the kids would have fun staying up late waiting for it. Idiot, yelling at me that I need to bring him the information on what the book title is..."
Harry regretted it the second he asked the question. "Well, what is the book title?"
Every child in the mob glared at him as though he had just questioned the existence of the Easter Bunny. "Why should you be asking?" the tall girl snorted. "You ought to know what we're waiting for."
Harry glanced at Luna, whose widened stunned stare back at him suggested they should both leave the scene. Slowly, the two stepped back away from the store, moving away from the intense, silent mob of preteen book readers. They got as far as the next street corner before turning their backs to the group and hurrying away.
"Now I know how everyone feels around me," Luna muttered, checking over her shoulder to make sure they were safely away. "It's a good thing we left."
"Did you think they were going to attack us?" Harry asked.
"Not at that point," Luna sighed. "I was going to ask them if the cover of the book was blue."
"Oh." Harry suppressed a smile. "More blue. Well, that would have angered them up a bit, I suppose."
"Not really. From what my father tells me, in those situations where people are waiting for a book they don't know the title to, the cover of the book should always be blue." Luna smiled slightly. "I just wanted to confirm his theory."
Harry knew of a word one could say when exasperated, confused, or both, but for the life of him couldn't remember it at the moment. Instead, he shook his head. "I hope we're close to that fish and chips place."
It was close, three blocks down. The Hedgehog Brothers Taco Company, offering fish and chips with a Mexican flavor, was a small, cramped place with no seating tables and one long bar facing the storefront window. Most people were placing the orders for carry-out, walking back into the street snacking on the meals. After a few minutes in line, they made their orders: Luna asking for a haddock taco, Harry sticking to the more traditional breaded cod with thick chips wrapped in the financial section of yesterday's Guardian paper.
"It's odd, what Muggles have to eat, isn't it?" Luna asked after taking a few bites of her taco. They were walking down toward the riverside at that point, with the cloudy skies becoming clearer overhead.
"Well, what we eat is odd to them," Harry replied. "I have to admit the meals at school are rich compared to what I get back at the Dursleys, and I'm not knocking it, I love Hogwarts' meals. It's just, Muggles, well, they don't even know what butterbeer is let alone how to make it, I'd bet. But still, there's something to be said for a good slice of Chicago-style pizza."
Luna tilted her head at him ever so slightly. "How could you have a Chicago pizza in England?"
Harry smiled, thinking back. "When I was nine, at school, a history teacher was planning a field trip to the States for the older students. They threw a farewell party a few weeks before school ended, held this banquet that I thought was enormous at the time, serving food from the cities they were going to. Philadelphia, Chicago, New Orleans, and New York. My cousin Dudley did what he could to keep me from attending, he and his friends finding a nice broom closet to shove me into..."
"No!" Luna cried out, having apparently never heard of the severity of Harry's childhood.
"...But the teacher did a head count, saw I wasn't at the cafeteria, hurried about and found me under a pile of wet mops. By the time he escorted me back, the cheese steaks and the Cajun shrimp were all gone, but the other teachers had saved a few slices of the pizza, so I had gotten a few of those. They were homemade, not a special order from a restaurant or anything, but still, very delicious. This fish and chips isn't so bad either. Want a bite?"
Luna shook her head. "Was that cousin of yours ever punished?" she asked, her dreamy visage dampened with a scowl that didn't suit her.
Harry shook his head. "My uncle and aunt make a fuss if Dudley gets so much as a stern talking-to. The teachers knew by then to let it go. They did what they could, putting me into other class groups, but I couldn't avoid recess or the walks to school."
Harry noticed he was doing something he hadn't really done much before, talking about his childhood with someone else. He'd told Ron and Hermione a few things, but not in such detail. He glanced at Luna, forcing a smile. "That's too depressing. Let's not talk about that, okay?"
"Okay." Luna immediately focused her attention elsewhere. "Let's talk about this. What's a cinema?"
Harry realized they had stopped near a theater, the Odeon, where large groups of people were circling in and rushing out. It must have been just at that moment where a lot of movies were finishing, families and gangs of teenagers shouting about the latest science fiction mystery action comedy epic just released that weekend. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Pictures."
Luna glanced at the posters framed against the nearby wall. "And these are the ones that are frozen, right? So why do Muggles pay so much money to sit and watch pictures that don't move?"
"Well, no, they do move, actually." Harry grinned, doing his best not to laugh at Luna's apparent naivety. He supposed Ron and his family would be confused as well, and he'd never laugh if they were like this. "They call them 'moving pictures' or movies if you were in the States, I think."
He lowered his voice, making sure they weren't overheard. "What it is, they're like the portraits back at school. Except that they've hired people to dress up and play roles, which are copied onto a film. And then they process the film so it can be shipped out and viewed everywhere. And then people go in, and if they hate the film they throw popcorn at it. Well, unless it's a midnight movie called 'Rocky Horror' in which case I think they're expected to throw popcorn at it even though they like it. And that's, well, a movie."
"Oh." Luna's reply suggested she hadn't grasped a single concept of what had just been explained. She walked over and tapped the Plexiglas casings of the posters, waiting for Harry to join her there before whispering, "Well, these still don't movie any."
"No, no, say 'move,' the term 'movie' should be for the film itself, not the poster." Harry sighed. "You've never seen one?"
"No." Luna stared at him, pleasantly. "Have you?"
"Yeah. School field trips, Uncle Vernon would leave me back in the..." Harry nearly finished describing how he'd be left in the cupboard under the stairs while the Dursleys would hurry out to enjoy themselves at the cinema. "Yeah. I've seen a few."
"What were they like?"
"I dunno," he shrugged then glanced at her. "Well, I mean, I liked a few of them I saw, they were pretty good..."
"Are any of these pretty good?" Luna waved her hand along the row of poster displays, most of them summer action films from Hollywood, except for an Indian-based musical martial arts classic that had been showing for three straight years. Harry was amazed that wasn't out on video by now.
He shrugged again. "It depends on your tastes. I mean, do you like things exploding and cars getting crushed and..."
He noticed Luna was looking at him in shock, not realizing such carnage and mayhem were staged by the filmmakers. "It's okay. It's just...well, movies. It's not real."
Luna blinked a few times, apparently still perplexed.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "You should see one, I suppose. Maybe then you'll get it."
"Good. That sounds like a great idea," she smiled dreamily. Luna glanced up and down the posters. "Which one do you like?"
Harry scowled a bit, arching an eyebrow. That he liked? She was probably asking him which one to suggest for her and her father to see, perhaps. Or...
A sudden sensation hit his stomach, the one where this black hole appears and sucks everything into oblivion. Harry hoped it wasn't the fish he was finishing off for lunch. Probably not. It wasn't the fish's fault that Luna was sounding like she was setting him up for a date.
At least, it sounded that way. He glanced at Luna again, who would blink at him out of the corner of her eyes as she faced the posters advertising current and upcoming films. Harry couldn't, didn't want to read anything odd into it. After all, she wasn't familiar with most things in the Muggle world, maybe she simply wanted someone with experience to show her what a film was like. He shouldn't be reading any intentions into it.
And it wasn't like she was a stranger, after all. Having been a member of Dumbledore's Army, helping get his story about Voldemort's return through her father's magazine, even going to the Ministry to rescue Sirius along with Harry and his friends in Gryffindor. She was a friend, plain and simple. If she wanted to go to a cinema with a friend, why should he read anything else into it?
"Well," Harry finally said, letting his stomach settle down. "I guess you'd want a normal person film. Nothing with explosions in it, I guess." He examined each of the posters. As it was the summer time, the studios were pushing a lot of big budget explosion films, none of which might appeal to Luna. He walked down the row of posters, checking each one, seeing if...
Here was a film that didn't promote cars being crashed or robots being blown up or comets hitting the Earth or aliens eating people's faces. It showed a tandem of young adults standing as a group in front of a neon sign, poised to make a serious fashion statement. Harry vaguely recognized the brunette girl up front, someone in the tabloids once in awhile, an American rock star's daughter who was doing the model/actress scene. 'Empire Records' was the title, and the labels and ratings covering it suggested it was a romantic comedy, so hopefully it didn't have gunplay or cars crashing in it. It didn't look too shabby.
Luna walked up and tapped the Plexiglas protecting the 'Empire Records' poster. "This looks interesting."
"You think you might like to see this one?" Harry asked.
"No, I mean it's interesting." Luna tapped each of the faces of the actresses standing in front of the group. "This one looks like a Wood Elf. This bald one, she's got to be a witch. And this blonde here would be impeccably British if only she gained a few pounds."
Harry rolled his eyes. "They're just actresses."
"So is it any good?" Luna tapped the Plexiglas at the title. "It says 'Open 'til Midnight.' Is that when they stop showing this move thing?"
"No, it's...never mind." Harry looked at the time showings. "Actually, it's coming out next Friday. It's not in yet."
"Oh." Luna nodded, then looked at him rather fretfully. "So, um, did you want to go with me to see it? I mean, I'll need help with the popcorn throwing, I think."
"No, no, you should only throw the popcorn if you hate it." Harry smiled at that, then stopped smiling when he realized he was being directly offered a date. It was next week. Would he be able to sneak out of the Dursleys' home next week? What if Tonks wasn't available to cover for him, or if Uncle Vernon had him painting the walls for Aunt Petunia, or...or...
Or what if I stopped being scared, Harry told himself in a good firm voice. It's just a date, with a friend. No expectations. Just go see the film. It'll be fun.
"Yeah, next week," he nodded. "I think I can make it next week."
They had finished up their meals and had walked a bit more along the riverfront, which wasn't too scenic as there weren't a lot of boats floating around, and most of the shops and restaurants along the way were not as active as the mall. Perhaps at night, Harry mused, when people go out to pubs and eateries and enjoy themselves, perhaps it looks nicer then...
The conversations with Luna during the rest of the afternoon made the day fly by quickly. Harry hadn't even realized that they had stopped looking for Luna's father, or that they were supposed to be getting safely home after the Dementor attack. It wasn't until a peck of owls flew overhead that Harry remembered Dawlish's admonition that things were seriously dangerous out in the world that day, and that Luna should be finding her father as soon as possible.
"He'd gone home, I'd think," Luna answered serenely. "He has to be waiting for me, it's been hours since that incident."
"Well, then, let's get you home," Harry replied. "Your dad has got to be upset, horrified that you might be hurt or something."
Luna agreed, and pointed in the direction of the Floo Network spot. It turned out to be in a home design store displaying all bits of furniture and wall coverings, including a handful of fireplace units.
"Do you use this?" Luna asked, pulling out her burlap sack and folding it open. Harry noticed the bag getting larger with each unfurling, until it was four times its original size. She opened it up to reveal a treasure trove of items, loose metal pieces, an infinite count of beads, a keychain filled with so many keys that Harry just knew they were there for adornment only, papers by the handful, a dog-eared copy of a C.S. Lewis Narnia novel, finely polished rocks of various colors and sizes, and what had to be a gray pointed hat that couldn't possibly fit her.
"I don't have a bag like that," Harry gasped, amazed.
"Oh, no, not this," she said serenely, as though incapable of breaking out into giggles. "I mean the Floo Powder." She pulled out a smaller, coal-colored pouch and opened it. "Is your home set up for the network?"
Harry had noticed last summer that Uncle Vernon had removed the electric fireplace he had installed. There was that incident where the Weasleys had shown up in the closed-off chimney, and blown it open. Harry figured his uncle wasn't too keen to have wizards showing up through his fireplace, but had decided that if any did it would be another mess to deal with. Since Uncle Vernon glared at his direction blaming him for absolutely everything that happened, Harry never really gave it much thought when it had been removed.
"No," he shook his head finally. "Well, I've used it before to travel, but I don't think I'm linked up at home. At least, I'm not too sure if I'd get back in one piece."
"I know," Luna sighed. "It's not my favorite way to travel, either. I once ended up in Newcastle Upon Tyne."
"Well, it couldn't have been that bad up there."
"It was, I mean, who puts a fireplace in a men's bathroom anymore?" Luna sighed again, pulling out a flint to strike a fire in the fireplace they were facing. Once a small flame appeared, she tossed some of the Floo Powder into the fireplace. As the flames changed color, she turned to Harry. "Shall I see you at this Odeon place next Friday, then?"
"Sure. Early afternoon alright?"
"Yes." Luna smiled rather brightly, then turned to the fireplace. "Ottery St. Catchpole, Lovegood residence!" she shouted as she jumped over the flame. With a poof and a 'Swfpth' noise she disappeared into the Floo Network.
Harry nodded, turned and walked to the bus stop for the ride back to Little Whinging, and began to fret over exactly what he had gotten himself into.
Harry glanced about, staring into the growing darkness engulfing the mall, doing what he could to spot the Dementors he could feel approaching. The Muggles walking by were beginning to notice the cold, deadening sensation you feel when these creatures move closer to you, but from what Harry could hear they all thought the mall's air conditioning was kicking into overdrive.
Harry also heard Luna whimpering, and turned to see her step backward away from the escalators to rest against a large display case advertising the latest games in the mall's computer shops. "Where are they coming from, Harry? It feels...it's cold, Harry. It was like on the Express...Harry, when they searched the train for Sirius Black. I...why am I remembering..."
Harry moved closer, leaning his back against the display case as well, focusing his vision on the dark corners now engulfing the surrounding storefronts. He remembered the attack from last summer, when two Dementors swooped down into Little Whinging, and kept wondering why the Muggles weren't noticing a thing. Even Dudley, as dim as he was, could sense the coldness, could cry out about the loss of light as the creatures swept into the engulfing darkness in search of prey. And still he couldn't see where they could be coming from.
"Luna," he whispered. "Stay focused. Remember the training in DA. The Patronus spell, you need to stay focused on happy thoughts. Luna?"
"Yes," she whispered back. "I'm still here. But...Harry...I never made a successful Patronus. At least Hermione..."
Her whisper became urgent. "Harry. It's over there."
Harry glanced quickly at Luna, then noticed the direction she stared at. The shape and movement of the cloaked figure passing by them along the far side of the storefronts was most definitely a Dementor. What surprised Harry was its apparent disinterest in any particular person, merely shuffling along, touching long gray bony fingers upon the shoulders of the people walking in the opposite direction. Like a shark swimming against an unending tide, the Dementor made its way from person to person, each one of them shuddering in response to a shadow they couldn't see but could finally, almost horrifically feel.
The ones touched swooned as soon as the cloaked creature passed, garnering some notice by the others surrounding them, until they too were touched and swooned themselves. A growing murmuring noise could be heard by the victims, each of them grouching about sudden aches of their joints, about sudden memories of forgotten moments, about wondering why it felt like someone stepped over their graves.
"What's it doing?" Luna whispered, regaining some sense of calm. "I thought they took all of your happy memories, drained you of good thoughts. It only looks like, that it's just making people feel miserable."
"I dunno," Harry answered. He stepped slowly in the Dementor's direction, partly aware that he was still steeling himself for battle. "It might be there's too many people and only one of him. He can't focus on one person to feed off of. He's...I think he's snacking."
As Harry finished that thought, the Dementor suddenly turned, its cloak swishing an ominous swirl of dust along the floor where it had just walked. The dust swirled higher, reaching up at the people once touched by the creature, like fingers grasping at...
"Oh, no," Harry whispered, stepping back from the dust cloud. No one had mentioned this as a Dementor attack method. No one taught him what Dementors could do with dust.
A hissing noise issued from under the Dementor's hood, and suddenly every human within the dust cloud coughed and seized up, clutching their chests or shoulders. One woman had enough strength to clasp her forehead, as if a pain from a scar was hitting her at that moment, and Harry winced in sympathy.
Finally people noticed the sudden collapsing of a large group, and screams echoed across the mall's long hallways. Loved ones dashed to the fallen, only to suddenly seize up themselves as they reached the dust cloud that now pulsed with life, expanding with each hissed breath of the Dementor that sounded more and more like a satisfied shriek of joy.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry whispered to himself, raising his wand, knowing he had no choice. Muggles had to be seeing him, he was not only violating the rule of underage magic use but the greater rule of avoiding Muggle awareness of wizardry, but Muggles were dying now, he had no choice, lives were at stake.
Harry reached for a happy thought. Memories of Sirius flew in, but that last image of him, stunned, falling into a... No. Harry kept thinking, Cho, the moment they kissed, but there was a sense of guilt, too much shock, he still hadn't fully registered what had happened...
He suddenly remembered the feeling of winning the House Quidditch Cup from two years prior, and just as suddenly recognized a better memory: Ron, smiling from ear to ear, hoisting the Cup himself it what had to be the greatest moment of his life. Gryffindor students of all seven years carrying him into Hogwarts, singing a better revision of the "Weasley Is Our King" song, and realizing how Draco Malfoy must have seethed in seeing Ron win and hearing a song he meant for humiliation used instead for praise.
That's it, Harry smiled to himself, the best thing I can think of. He pointed his wand, keeping that image of Ron's celebration in his mind, and shouted "EXPECT..."
"ENOUGH!" Another voice shouted. Harry turned, suddenly distracted by the appearance of the goblin ATCM supervisor hobbling in the Dementor's direction. "Enough, foulness personified! Enough!"
The Dementor's joyous shriek was replaced by what had to be a gasping snarl of sorts. The dust cloud shrank slightly, but the humans still trapped within it shuddered and cried in pain.
"Enough!" The goblin approached without care or caution. He was facing a Dementor, Harry mused, he wasn't afraid, he didn't react like all happy memories were being consumed in darkness. "Enough! You are interfering! You are hurting business! Enough!"
The Dementor grabbed at the nearest human, lifting him up as if using him as a shield against the goblin's approach. The human finally gasped as though his lungs were finally working properly, only to violently shudder as if he was now freezing to death.
"Enough!" cried the goblin, finally reaching into the dust cloud that had yet to settle, spinning the quill in his hand quickly into the thin fog-like material. As the quill spun faster, faster than Harry's eye could gauge, the cloud changed in appearance, changing from dust to a gold mist. The mist pulled away from the collapsed crowd, as gasps for breath grew louder from the victims, and slowly rose up along the Dementor's dirt-covered cloak, becoming brighter and brighter.
"The light," Harry whispered, noticing the mist growing more golden and more solid. Not yet as bright as the sun, it nonetheless cast the shadows that had grown along the storefronts into retreat, and it rose higher along the cloak. The Dementor shrieked, tried to move, instead tripping against itself and waving wildly as it couldn't even fall down. The human in its grasp fell back to the floor, struggling for breath and warmth.
And still the bright golden mist formed a hard shell against the Dementor's cloak, wrapping like a cocoon around the shrieking, frightened creature. For once, Harry realized a Dementor could be afraid, instead of inducing fear, and watched as the mist finally wrapped itself against the dropped hood, tightening the cloak shut and silencing the Dementor with one last desperate wail.
The goblin stopped twirling his feathered pen, and stood there shaking his head as though disappointed. Muttering something to himself, the goblin supervisor pulled a bell, this one slightly larger and more oddly curved than Rancalk's bell, from around the neck and proceeded to ring it.
A quintet of goblins suddenly scampered past Harry toward the supervisor. Receiving whispered instructions, they nodded among themselves and quickly turned their attentions to the Dementor's victims, still sprawled upon the mall floor. The Muggles that had arrived to help, a handful of security guards and a pair of nearby employees of a store, still seemed unaware, focusing instead on the poor humans struggling to revive from the attack.
The goblins quickly began to walk among the pile, taking notes on small parchments next to each victim, taking record of some sort, before waving their quills over the victims. The pale, clammy skin of each victim would fade back into a normal, warmish pink color, although the vacant stare each gave Harry a small shudder. Satisfied that his underlings were taking care of the situation, the supervisor turned away toward the direction of the Information Desk.
"Wait!" Harry stated, walking up to the goblin supervisor, far too many questions bouncing around in his head. The supervisor glared back at him, which made Harry stammer a bit. "Well, first off, thanks for, you know, taking care of the Dementor, and...well, thanks."
The goblin supervisor blinked as though thanks meant nothing to him. "It was bad for business. Dead customers don't spend their money, after all."
Harry glanced at the solid gold cocoon that was now standing, stunningly unnoticed, in the middle of the mall. "Um, what did you do to it?"
"Killed it." The goblin supervisor stated it like he was counting the number of paper clips in an office drawer. "Not much you can do with foulness. Don't buy anything, and can never deal with those things."
Harry was going to ask another question, but a long woolen robe swung past his face and he turned to see a wizard bending down slightly, as though catching his breath. "The Dementor! My word! Already taken care of, I see!"
Harry recognized the wizard's wiry hair and tough-looking face from Dumbledore's office when Fudge attempted to arrest the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dawlish, from the Aurors' office, now looked peaked, sweat dripping from the sides of his face, with all the appearance of a long-distance runner trying to make the London-to-Glasgow stretch in under a minute. "Gold. Solid, I suspect. You goblins do know a few handy tricks, eh?"
The goblin supervisor grunted. "Wizards." He turned, ringing his bell again, but at a higher pitch. The goblins checking on the human survivors stopped in their tracks, and immediately ran from the scene, speeding past Harry so fast that by the time he had turned even the dust in their trails had settled back onto the mall floor.
"Wait! Where did they go?" Harry glanced back at Dawlish, only to see he had walked over to the golden cocoon to see about removing it from the mall. Another pair of wizards Apparated next to him, both of them slightly older in appearance and more bookish, more than likely from the Ministry's other departments. The pair quickly moved among the Muggles, waving their wands about muttering words like "Obliviate" which told Harry they were clearing the minds of all possible eyewitnesses to the incident.
Harry turned back to Luna, who had stored her wand back into a large burlap carry-all that she immediately folded and shoved into the outer flannel blue shirt she wore. "Where did those goblins go? Why didn't they follow the head goblin banker back to the Information Desk?"
"Well, that's not where they came from," whispered Luna. "Those goblins were from the food court."
"What are goblins doing in the food court?"
"Running it. Goblins have a controlling interest in every food court on the planet, Harry."
Hands tapped both teenagers on their shoulders, and they turned to face Dawlish, who looked calmed and relaxed. Harry spied past him to see that the golden cocoon had been removed and the affected humans walking away from the scene. Dawlish coughed quickly, a deeper one than former High Inquisitor Umbridge used, to regain Harry's attention before speaking. "Alright, did any of you use magic here today?"
Both Luna and Harry shook their heads. "We didn't, but we were about to and..."
"Hmm, well, you being who you are," the Auror noted, glancing up at Harry's forehead, "I wouldn't have been surprised if you succeeded. Still, don't be surprised if you get any messages, all things considered what just happened."
"But we didn't use any magic!" Luna answered, doing her best to keep her voice from being overheard by the Muggles passing by.
"Of course you didn't! I'm just saying the Ministry's bound to pass word along to every one of you and your schoolmates. Today's been, well, I won't be surprised if I get another call soon about another location..."
"Another?" Harry's eyes widened. "They've been...there's been more attacks just now?"
Dawlish nodded. "All over the place. That's the next thing I want to tell you. Both of you. Go home. Right now, as best you can. It's not safe today, and we can't be sure if anything else is going to happen."
Just at that moment, Harry noticed the mall becoming brighter, as though the sun had returned with the lifting of a spell. Even with the Dementor's capture and destruction within the golden cocoon just minutes earlier, the place had remained dark, fulfilling some sort of time limit. "But wait, we can't leave yet, Luna's father..."
Dawlish glanced down at Luna. "Your father? He's...?"
"Lovegood. Keeley Lovegood." Luna glanced about. "He's...well, we were looking for him before the attack..."
Dawlish's face became sterner. "Look, do what you can to find him. When you're done, get him to take you both home. Now. Get going."
It had been a rather quick walk through all three levels of the Friary, even though it had to have been an hour covering every inch of the place. During it all, Harry had spotted dozens of Muggles commenting oddly on things, of emergency medical teams showing up to deal with a group of tourists suffering dizzy spells at one end of the mall, of unusual noises and smells throughout the place, of a possible gas leak that no one seemed to think was at all dangerous at the moment.
There was no sign of Luna's father, much less anything blue that could have passed for a Winodyr. Finally, Harry collapsed on a mall bench near the main entrance, taking a moment to rest his legs and count the number of grumbling noises his stomach was making.
"Well," Luna sighed as she sat down next to him, tinkering with her butterbeer cap necklace that Harry noticed had gained a few new additions since the end of school year. "I'm not concerned."
"Why not?" Harry asked, perplexed. "There'd been...well, an attack. A pretty serious one. Aren't you worried?"
"Dad's a full-fledged, well, you know," she smiled slightly. It was kind of hard to discuss wizarding out in the open. "He can protect himself."
"Yeah, but still..."
"He's probably gone to check other stores," Luna continued, glancing outward. "Maybe he wasn't even in the mall when it happened, so he's safe."
Harry nodded, and noted that her dad might not have known about it, which explained why Luna's father wasn't conspicuously running about terrified that something might have happened to his daughter. "So what do we do?"
Luna continued to look out the mall's main entrance. "Do you know any good eateries here? I think you're hungry."
Harry smiled. "You could hear my stomach growling?"
"No. It's just I remembered you were complaining about that just before the attack." Luna finally glanced at him for a second with a slight smile, before resuming her outward stare. "There's a fish and chips place near the Floo Network stop down the street. Sound good?"
Harry nodded at that. It sounded like there was more walking involved, but he was sure his stomach could survive another hour or two.
They headed out of the Friary and onto the streets of Guildford. The cloud cover had remained since morning, but it was certainly brighter than it had been in hours, with very little threat of storm. It felt more like a late spring than early summer, and the walk outside didn't seem so bad to Harry.
The pair did come across an unusual scene outside of Waterstones, a book store. Harry had never seen so many children, much of them younger than he was, standing in queue quietly and calmly. A few had their noses pressed against the windows, glancing back and forth at the titles on display, but apparently not finding what they were looking for.
"What is happening here?" Luna asked a small girl, barely the same size as Ginny back when Harry first met the Weasleys (was it already that long ago? Harry mused.).
"We're waiting for a book to come out," the girl answered, not turning her attention away from the front door.
"Oh. What's the title?"
"Well, we don't know it, actually." The girl shrugged. "We just know there's a book out there for us."
"A whole series of them," a thin boy added, pressing his nose against the store window.
The doorway swung open as a taller girl, almost the same age as Harry and Luna, puffed her way outside, a indignant look on her face. "Bloody manager. Get all mad with me, I'm actually wanting to a be a bloody customer..."
"Well?" all of the children shouted at once.
The tall girl sighed. "Same answer as last week. It's not in, yet."
The group of children groaned, one or two of them openly wailing their heads off. "Didn't you tell the manager we were waiting?" the thin boy asked.
"Yeah, I did. Even suggested he throw a midnight store opening party when the book comes in, so that all the kids would have fun staying up late waiting for it. Idiot, yelling at me that I need to bring him the information on what the book title is..."
Harry regretted it the second he asked the question. "Well, what is the book title?"
Every child in the mob glared at him as though he had just questioned the existence of the Easter Bunny. "Why should you be asking?" the tall girl snorted. "You ought to know what we're waiting for."
Harry glanced at Luna, whose widened stunned stare back at him suggested they should both leave the scene. Slowly, the two stepped back away from the store, moving away from the intense, silent mob of preteen book readers. They got as far as the next street corner before turning their backs to the group and hurrying away.
"Now I know how everyone feels around me," Luna muttered, checking over her shoulder to make sure they were safely away. "It's a good thing we left."
"Did you think they were going to attack us?" Harry asked.
"Not at that point," Luna sighed. "I was going to ask them if the cover of the book was blue."
"Oh." Harry suppressed a smile. "More blue. Well, that would have angered them up a bit, I suppose."
"Not really. From what my father tells me, in those situations where people are waiting for a book they don't know the title to, the cover of the book should always be blue." Luna smiled slightly. "I just wanted to confirm his theory."
Harry knew of a word one could say when exasperated, confused, or both, but for the life of him couldn't remember it at the moment. Instead, he shook his head. "I hope we're close to that fish and chips place."
It was close, three blocks down. The Hedgehog Brothers Taco Company, offering fish and chips with a Mexican flavor, was a small, cramped place with no seating tables and one long bar facing the storefront window. Most people were placing the orders for carry-out, walking back into the street snacking on the meals. After a few minutes in line, they made their orders: Luna asking for a haddock taco, Harry sticking to the more traditional breaded cod with thick chips wrapped in the financial section of yesterday's Guardian paper.
"It's odd, what Muggles have to eat, isn't it?" Luna asked after taking a few bites of her taco. They were walking down toward the riverside at that point, with the cloudy skies becoming clearer overhead.
"Well, what we eat is odd to them," Harry replied. "I have to admit the meals at school are rich compared to what I get back at the Dursleys, and I'm not knocking it, I love Hogwarts' meals. It's just, Muggles, well, they don't even know what butterbeer is let alone how to make it, I'd bet. But still, there's something to be said for a good slice of Chicago-style pizza."
Luna tilted her head at him ever so slightly. "How could you have a Chicago pizza in England?"
Harry smiled, thinking back. "When I was nine, at school, a history teacher was planning a field trip to the States for the older students. They threw a farewell party a few weeks before school ended, held this banquet that I thought was enormous at the time, serving food from the cities they were going to. Philadelphia, Chicago, New Orleans, and New York. My cousin Dudley did what he could to keep me from attending, he and his friends finding a nice broom closet to shove me into..."
"No!" Luna cried out, having apparently never heard of the severity of Harry's childhood.
"...But the teacher did a head count, saw I wasn't at the cafeteria, hurried about and found me under a pile of wet mops. By the time he escorted me back, the cheese steaks and the Cajun shrimp were all gone, but the other teachers had saved a few slices of the pizza, so I had gotten a few of those. They were homemade, not a special order from a restaurant or anything, but still, very delicious. This fish and chips isn't so bad either. Want a bite?"
Luna shook her head. "Was that cousin of yours ever punished?" she asked, her dreamy visage dampened with a scowl that didn't suit her.
Harry shook his head. "My uncle and aunt make a fuss if Dudley gets so much as a stern talking-to. The teachers knew by then to let it go. They did what they could, putting me into other class groups, but I couldn't avoid recess or the walks to school."
Harry noticed he was doing something he hadn't really done much before, talking about his childhood with someone else. He'd told Ron and Hermione a few things, but not in such detail. He glanced at Luna, forcing a smile. "That's too depressing. Let's not talk about that, okay?"
"Okay." Luna immediately focused her attention elsewhere. "Let's talk about this. What's a cinema?"
Harry realized they had stopped near a theater, the Odeon, where large groups of people were circling in and rushing out. It must have been just at that moment where a lot of movies were finishing, families and gangs of teenagers shouting about the latest science fiction mystery action comedy epic just released that weekend. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Pictures."
Luna glanced at the posters framed against the nearby wall. "And these are the ones that are frozen, right? So why do Muggles pay so much money to sit and watch pictures that don't move?"
"Well, no, they do move, actually." Harry grinned, doing his best not to laugh at Luna's apparent naivety. He supposed Ron and his family would be confused as well, and he'd never laugh if they were like this. "They call them 'moving pictures' or movies if you were in the States, I think."
He lowered his voice, making sure they weren't overheard. "What it is, they're like the portraits back at school. Except that they've hired people to dress up and play roles, which are copied onto a film. And then they process the film so it can be shipped out and viewed everywhere. And then people go in, and if they hate the film they throw popcorn at it. Well, unless it's a midnight movie called 'Rocky Horror' in which case I think they're expected to throw popcorn at it even though they like it. And that's, well, a movie."
"Oh." Luna's reply suggested she hadn't grasped a single concept of what had just been explained. She walked over and tapped the Plexiglas casings of the posters, waiting for Harry to join her there before whispering, "Well, these still don't movie any."
"No, no, say 'move,' the term 'movie' should be for the film itself, not the poster." Harry sighed. "You've never seen one?"
"No." Luna stared at him, pleasantly. "Have you?"
"Yeah. School field trips, Uncle Vernon would leave me back in the..." Harry nearly finished describing how he'd be left in the cupboard under the stairs while the Dursleys would hurry out to enjoy themselves at the cinema. "Yeah. I've seen a few."
"What were they like?"
"I dunno," he shrugged then glanced at her. "Well, I mean, I liked a few of them I saw, they were pretty good..."
"Are any of these pretty good?" Luna waved her hand along the row of poster displays, most of them summer action films from Hollywood, except for an Indian-based musical martial arts classic that had been showing for three straight years. Harry was amazed that wasn't out on video by now.
He shrugged again. "It depends on your tastes. I mean, do you like things exploding and cars getting crushed and..."
He noticed Luna was looking at him in shock, not realizing such carnage and mayhem were staged by the filmmakers. "It's okay. It's just...well, movies. It's not real."
Luna blinked a few times, apparently still perplexed.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "You should see one, I suppose. Maybe then you'll get it."
"Good. That sounds like a great idea," she smiled dreamily. Luna glanced up and down the posters. "Which one do you like?"
Harry scowled a bit, arching an eyebrow. That he liked? She was probably asking him which one to suggest for her and her father to see, perhaps. Or...
A sudden sensation hit his stomach, the one where this black hole appears and sucks everything into oblivion. Harry hoped it wasn't the fish he was finishing off for lunch. Probably not. It wasn't the fish's fault that Luna was sounding like she was setting him up for a date.
At least, it sounded that way. He glanced at Luna again, who would blink at him out of the corner of her eyes as she faced the posters advertising current and upcoming films. Harry couldn't, didn't want to read anything odd into it. After all, she wasn't familiar with most things in the Muggle world, maybe she simply wanted someone with experience to show her what a film was like. He shouldn't be reading any intentions into it.
And it wasn't like she was a stranger, after all. Having been a member of Dumbledore's Army, helping get his story about Voldemort's return through her father's magazine, even going to the Ministry to rescue Sirius along with Harry and his friends in Gryffindor. She was a friend, plain and simple. If she wanted to go to a cinema with a friend, why should he read anything else into it?
"Well," Harry finally said, letting his stomach settle down. "I guess you'd want a normal person film. Nothing with explosions in it, I guess." He examined each of the posters. As it was the summer time, the studios were pushing a lot of big budget explosion films, none of which might appeal to Luna. He walked down the row of posters, checking each one, seeing if...
Here was a film that didn't promote cars being crashed or robots being blown up or comets hitting the Earth or aliens eating people's faces. It showed a tandem of young adults standing as a group in front of a neon sign, poised to make a serious fashion statement. Harry vaguely recognized the brunette girl up front, someone in the tabloids once in awhile, an American rock star's daughter who was doing the model/actress scene. 'Empire Records' was the title, and the labels and ratings covering it suggested it was a romantic comedy, so hopefully it didn't have gunplay or cars crashing in it. It didn't look too shabby.
Luna walked up and tapped the Plexiglas protecting the 'Empire Records' poster. "This looks interesting."
"You think you might like to see this one?" Harry asked.
"No, I mean it's interesting." Luna tapped each of the faces of the actresses standing in front of the group. "This one looks like a Wood Elf. This bald one, she's got to be a witch. And this blonde here would be impeccably British if only she gained a few pounds."
Harry rolled his eyes. "They're just actresses."
"So is it any good?" Luna tapped the Plexiglas at the title. "It says 'Open 'til Midnight.' Is that when they stop showing this move thing?"
"No, it's...never mind." Harry looked at the time showings. "Actually, it's coming out next Friday. It's not in yet."
"Oh." Luna nodded, then looked at him rather fretfully. "So, um, did you want to go with me to see it? I mean, I'll need help with the popcorn throwing, I think."
"No, no, you should only throw the popcorn if you hate it." Harry smiled at that, then stopped smiling when he realized he was being directly offered a date. It was next week. Would he be able to sneak out of the Dursleys' home next week? What if Tonks wasn't available to cover for him, or if Uncle Vernon had him painting the walls for Aunt Petunia, or...or...
Or what if I stopped being scared, Harry told himself in a good firm voice. It's just a date, with a friend. No expectations. Just go see the film. It'll be fun.
"Yeah, next week," he nodded. "I think I can make it next week."
They had finished up their meals and had walked a bit more along the riverfront, which wasn't too scenic as there weren't a lot of boats floating around, and most of the shops and restaurants along the way were not as active as the mall. Perhaps at night, Harry mused, when people go out to pubs and eateries and enjoy themselves, perhaps it looks nicer then...
The conversations with Luna during the rest of the afternoon made the day fly by quickly. Harry hadn't even realized that they had stopped looking for Luna's father, or that they were supposed to be getting safely home after the Dementor attack. It wasn't until a peck of owls flew overhead that Harry remembered Dawlish's admonition that things were seriously dangerous out in the world that day, and that Luna should be finding her father as soon as possible.
"He'd gone home, I'd think," Luna answered serenely. "He has to be waiting for me, it's been hours since that incident."
"Well, then, let's get you home," Harry replied. "Your dad has got to be upset, horrified that you might be hurt or something."
Luna agreed, and pointed in the direction of the Floo Network spot. It turned out to be in a home design store displaying all bits of furniture and wall coverings, including a handful of fireplace units.
"Do you use this?" Luna asked, pulling out her burlap sack and folding it open. Harry noticed the bag getting larger with each unfurling, until it was four times its original size. She opened it up to reveal a treasure trove of items, loose metal pieces, an infinite count of beads, a keychain filled with so many keys that Harry just knew they were there for adornment only, papers by the handful, a dog-eared copy of a C.S. Lewis Narnia novel, finely polished rocks of various colors and sizes, and what had to be a gray pointed hat that couldn't possibly fit her.
"I don't have a bag like that," Harry gasped, amazed.
"Oh, no, not this," she said serenely, as though incapable of breaking out into giggles. "I mean the Floo Powder." She pulled out a smaller, coal-colored pouch and opened it. "Is your home set up for the network?"
Harry had noticed last summer that Uncle Vernon had removed the electric fireplace he had installed. There was that incident where the Weasleys had shown up in the closed-off chimney, and blown it open. Harry figured his uncle wasn't too keen to have wizards showing up through his fireplace, but had decided that if any did it would be another mess to deal with. Since Uncle Vernon glared at his direction blaming him for absolutely everything that happened, Harry never really gave it much thought when it had been removed.
"No," he shook his head finally. "Well, I've used it before to travel, but I don't think I'm linked up at home. At least, I'm not too sure if I'd get back in one piece."
"I know," Luna sighed. "It's not my favorite way to travel, either. I once ended up in Newcastle Upon Tyne."
"Well, it couldn't have been that bad up there."
"It was, I mean, who puts a fireplace in a men's bathroom anymore?" Luna sighed again, pulling out a flint to strike a fire in the fireplace they were facing. Once a small flame appeared, she tossed some of the Floo Powder into the fireplace. As the flames changed color, she turned to Harry. "Shall I see you at this Odeon place next Friday, then?"
"Sure. Early afternoon alright?"
"Yes." Luna smiled rather brightly, then turned to the fireplace. "Ottery St. Catchpole, Lovegood residence!" she shouted as she jumped over the flame. With a poof and a 'Swfpth' noise she disappeared into the Floo Network.
Harry nodded, turned and walked to the bus stop for the ride back to Little Whinging, and began to fret over exactly what he had gotten himself into.